


the resistance

by vacationer



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Government Agencies, Light Romance, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-29
Updated: 2018-03-29
Packaged: 2019-04-14 16:18:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14139786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vacationer/pseuds/vacationer
Summary: It's not unusual for Gerard to make an absolute mess out of a mission.





	the resistance

**Author's Note:**

> this is a piece i wrote for a scene out of my own universe/concept. the information about it: ffefd5.tumblr.com/faau
> 
> basically they're just trying to get information from a separate gang, one that's perceived to be working with a dictator on the rise.

Gerard has what he needs, bags of it actually. Information and money. Frank’s quietly lugging a duffel while Gerard peeks into another room, one hand gripped on a gun and the other on a backpack strap. “Go,” An order comes into his earpiece, and Gerard ignores it. That’s common, it’s so common, and Ray groans, voice static under repressed connection. “get out of there, like, now,” he presses. Gerard doesn’t listen. Frank’s next in line to ignore orders. Mikey’s waiting outside, like he’s supposed to. But, he doesn’t really listen either. 

Frank taps on his shoulder, like he knows this isn’t a good idea, but Gerard ignores that too. 

He aims, he fires, he misses. Chaos erupts and his stomach drops as he lets out a loud shout, turning and running. Frank’s already ahead of him, “You dick!” He catches up, slipping as they round a turn, boots failing to catch on the smooth cement. Frank barely pauses to help, just grabbing his arm and hauling him up painfully. He’s grinning. 

“I knew you weren’t gonna make that. You’re a terrible shot.” He tells him, out of breath, barely maintaining the bag in his arms, but still smiling. Life’s just a fucking game in Aeon. 

“Fuck you,” Gerard spits, not knowing if he hears, as the sounds of shouts and hard boots are echoing off of every surface in the building. Good thing he knows the layout like the back of his hand. 

“Catching up,” Frank tells him, and he can tell, but it’s a personal choice not to turn back to see.

“Where are you guys going?” Ray asks, he’s been asking for a while, but it’s easy to ignore one electronic voice when all you can hear is guns gaining on you. Whatever, it’s fun. This is a monthly thing. “This was not the plan!” 

Ray’s definitely not a tightass when it comes to discussed missions, but all the back hall detours they’ve been taking are really fucking up the endgame. Mikey’s not going to end up in the right spot, the car’s going to be inaccessible if they don’t exit where they should have. 

Gerard’s running them in circles, pissing off everyone. 

“They’re going to circle around the other way, pretty soon!” Frank presses, even though they’ve lost them, if only for a good 15 seconds. Gerard tugs open a door, and pulls Frank in behind him, shutting it as quickly and as quietly as he can. It’s an abandoned conference room, a big round table, a big old supply closet. Nothing that’s going to visibly help them escape. “What the fuck!” Frank whispers, voice strained. “What!” He repeats, following him into the dark closet, door clicking behind them. Gerard digs through a box, throwing papers around the room, dropping his backpack into it, turning it upside down. Frank does the same, still muttering, “You really think--” Gerard presses a finger to his lips, pulling him right in front of the door as they hear muffled talk in the conference room.

Gerard grabs Frank’s gloved hand, moving against the adjacent wall, and holding his breath. 

“You stupid fucking bitches,” Ray says into his ear, and Gerard silently agrees. “you die, I kill you again,” That’s fair. This is is a bad situation, extremely bad, he doesn’t even know what’s going to happen. But, he thinks, luck's been on his side all the other times. All the failed missions, all the near death, never ACTUAL death. Things aren’t looking too good as the closet handle jiggles, and is slowly pushed open. 

He wishes he was flat, like, really bad. He’d take a whole life of being as thin as paper, fucking Flat Stanley this shit, as the hinges squeak. He feels Frank lean his head against his shoulder, and he squeezes his hand. They both watch light splash against boxes of paper and notebooks and pens until the door is blocking all but the corner near them. Thank God for shitty construction and a door that opens into a closet. “Nothing,” A voice says, and Gerard lets his shoulders drop. Nothing, nothing in here. There’s nothing, not them. They’re the stupid ones now! Ha!

They wait there a few minutes, in silence, Gerard’s stopped crying over stressful shit like this a hundred cases ago, but he’s still sweaty and shaking. “You’re in the clear, for now,” Ray quips, and he nearly collapses, Frank’s head thunking back against the wall.

“You are so stupid,” Frank says, grabbing both sides of Gerard’s face and pulling him into a harsh kiss. “so, so, so stupid,” he turns away, flipping the boxes back over, and grabbing their bags. 

“Tell us the deets, Rayman,” Gerard breathes heavily, taking his bag as they step out into the room. 

“Don’t call me that,” Frank looks over at Gerard’s crooked grin and laughs. “you’ve got a good few minutes in the west wing. Mikey can meet you outside that bathroom that has the window.”

Frank groans, “No, God, ew,” That one’s not maintained. None of them are maintained. 

“Suck it up,” Ray tells them, and they head out.

They can still hear the clamoring around the building, but they make it undetected. Gerard gags upon entrance, pulling his shirt above his nose. “This is terrible,” he mutters, Frank nodding. None of the stalls have doors. There’s piss on the walls. “How could that--” he starts, but Frank interrupts him, head tilted towards the frosted window near the ceiling. 

 

“Why doesn’t it open?” He questions, and Gee nears him, looking up at it too. 

“It’s decorative?” 

“No time for discussion,” Ray says. “break it.”

“Ugh,” Frank rolls his eyes, looking around the room for something to use. 

“No,” Gerard mutters. “there’s nothing to use. Gun.”

“Gun?” Frank mocks. 

“How much time will we have after we fucking attract every damn guard in this building to this place?” Gerard asks, and he hears Ray sigh.

“Not long.” 

“Shit.” He licks his lips, taking in all their resources. There’s a faint drip from the sink and Frank stares at him. “Get up on that stall, shoot it, kick it in, throw the bags though, get out.”

“I--” Frank starts. 

 

“I don’t want to hear it. You’re going through first.” Gerard pushes him into a stall, taking his bag away, Frank staring grimly at the dirty toilet seat. Almost daintily, he steps onto it, and pulling himself up onto the wall. 

“This hurts my ass,” Frank complains, interrupted by Ray’s ‘hurry’. He takes a deep breath, pulling his gun out of his chest holster, looking at Gerard once, and then firing twice. There goes their time. He balances both hands on the stall wall, in an uncomfortable sort of crab position, kicking through the shattered glass. Sitting back, he tugs his jacket off and throws it over the shrapnel at the bottom. Gerard gives him a bag, and he pushes it through.

“I’m surprised you’re alive,” They both smile as they hear Mikey outside. Gerard gives him another bag, and he tosses it in. He can hear Mikey grab them and run to the car. 

“Just you and me,” Frank says, maneuvering and pushing himself onto the sill.

They’re both startled by the sound of guards. “You better meet me out there,” Frank says, not able to turn back to look as he pushes himself through the small opening. 

Gerard’s choking on his own heartbeat as he repeats the same motions, all sounds becoming louder, envisioning the guards on the outside too. He can do this, though, he can. 

He barely makes it as he all but falls onto slick pavement, several bullets hitting the wall across from the building. Frank’s hauling him up, and pulling him to his feet as they break out into a sprint, the car finding them. Mikey tosses the driver side door open, and moves across to the passenger seat. Frank gets in the back, and Gerard makes it to the front, just before more bullets whiz past his head. 

He triumphantly yells and floors the gas, the rest of the car silent.


End file.
